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mokulule · 3 months

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 16

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Part 16:

Jason carefully kept his writing legible as he wrote down the heating instructions. Considering Ghost seemed to be living off granola bars he was not taking any chances.

There were signs Ghost had returned a few times. The bag and calibrator was gone of course, and the sandwiches were disappearing. It wasn’t good enough. Ghost needed more than sandwiches, it was better than living solely on granola bars, but it was not enough. He needed something more energy dense - hence the meat and vegetable stew and the mashed potatoes he’d made, packed in portions for easy reheating. But he had to make sure it was easy, he didn’t want to risk it being too bothersome and him not eating any.

Slowly, deliberately he put the pen down so he didn’t break it and laid his hands down flat on the kitchen island. Jason was in control, not the pits. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting the seconds…

…seven… eight…

Carefully he pushed the voice away that insisted he just lay a trap instead of all this tip-toeing around. It would be all too easy, Tim had found out how to short-circuit his powers. It hadn’t lasted more than an hour or two, but really there was no reason they couldn’t just attach some sort of device to him and repeat the small EMP charge every hour - it would be easy.

It would be horrible.

It was not how Jason wanted to go about it. Fucking Pits. Fucking intrusive thoughts. He hung his head taking deep breaths. He just wanted a little bit of peace of mind, was that too much to ask?

A half-choked gasp sounded behind him and he spun around wide-eyed. There, across the living room section of the open plan apartment was Ghost halfway through the far wall. His eyes were wide and looked as shocked as Jason felt.

Jason didn’t dare breathe as he slowly raised his empty hands. One wrong move and he could ruin everything. He swallowed dryly and ever so slowly he stepped to the side around the kitchen island and backwards, away from Ghost, deeper into the kitchen, cornering himself, leaving all exits free - even if Ghost didn’t technically need any. Ghost followed his movements warily only moving his head, his body completely frozen, still only halfway through the wall.

Jason’s back hit the cupboards. It was as far as he could remove himself. It was all he could do. The ball was in Ghost’s court.

Please don’t run.

Jason didn’t think he could handle that one more time.

Oo o oO

Danny kept his eyes locked on the currently helmet-less not ghost. His heart rabbited in his chest and his whole body felt coiled like a spring, torn between running or going forward. He was terrified, but he also yearned-

Danny had become complacent. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he cursed himself for it now. He’d just moved thoughtlessly through the wall and his ghost sense had only had time to warn him when his eyes could do just as well. The barely there mist had fizzled uselessly out of his mouth when he gasped.

Helmet moved carefully away from Danny, as far away as he could in the kitchen. His hands were raised as if in surrender. He looked as harmless as a six foot tank could, which to be fair, it wasn’t the size of the man, that scared Danny. No, it was the fact that his entire body screamed trap. Danny was not keen on a repeat of his powers being gone, and the risk, the knowledge of it, it threatened to tear apart his painstakingly assembled composure.

Red Helmet might have taken him away from the other vigilantes, but he was still one of them. Danny just could not let himself trust him and it hurt, deeper than his still fucked up ribs. It hurt just to keep his core in a chokehold to stop it from calling to him. Never mind the near irresistable longing; Danny wanted so badly to go to him.

Danny couldn’t let himself.

Yet it was Helmet, not Danny, cornered right now. Caught in the act of something at the kitchen island. There was a small piece of paper on the island and Danny was curious.

And there were also still so many unanswered questions. How could he hear Danny but not respond? What was that thing about the anger he’d mentioned? Why had he given Danny back his backpack and the spectral calibrator? The calibrator in particular, because that one strictly speaking didn’t belong to Danny. Why was he stocking up food in an apartment he clearly didn’t live in? For Danny?

All were questions he couldn’t get answers to by running away.

Danny just had to keep his instincts on a tight leash.

Watching warily for any sudden movements, Danny slowly phased the rest of the way into the apartment. His beat up sneakers barely made a sound as he touched down on the wooden floors, but still Danny flinched.

Their eyes met and both held their breath.

Helmet looked away first. In fact he pointedly looked anywhere but at Danny now, seemed very intent on studying the counter now picking at non-existent dirt.

Somehow him not looking made it easier to walk closer and he carefully did. There was a whole kitchen island between them - that had to be enough for Danny’s paranoia.

He now stood where Helmet had stood when he came through the wall, he could pick up the paper.

It was heating instructions - for him.

His resolve crumbled and the paper crinkled as he clutched it like his life depended on it. Such a little detail. Not just the food left here, but instructions. When was the last time anyone had cared like this?

“Why-” His voice broke and tears prickled at his eyes. He cleared his throat and swallowed before trying again. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked from Danny to the note in his hand, seemed to mentally discard something, before admitting quietly, “I know what starving is like.”

Danny balked. “I eat.”

“I took a backpack full of protein bars off you.”

Danny grimaced. Just eating the sandwiches left for him here had been a vast improvement. So what if he didn’t eat well, he ate enough to survive. The fact that Danny could cling to existence through force of will was something he didn’t want to examine - his human half was still alive that had to be what mattered.

“So this anger thing,” Danny forcefully changed the subject like a bull bursting into a China shop, “tell me about it.”

Helmet tensed and that in turn made Danny tense. He might have overstepped. The moment was long and drawn out as Danny waited for the other shoe to drop. Slowly, Helmet let out a long sigh and forcefully relaxed his body. It didn’t put Danny entirely at ease, but it helped.

“There’s not much to tell,” he faked at nonchalance but there was something tightly leashed in his voice.

Danny didn’t buy it for one second. “Try again.”

There was a grimace and it looked almost like there was some sort of internal fight going on, until eventually he spoke.

“I got exposed to some nasty shit, ever since then I’ve had anger issues. I only realized once they were gone how pervasive they were.”

He looked away.

“I have hurt people - killed people - I thought they deserved it, but I’m not so sure anymore, not for all of them.” And there was pain there, in his voice, in his face, this was a hard thing to admit, not just to himself, but out loud to someone else.

Danny’s heart ached for him. The silence stretched between them and Danny prompted gently, hesitantly, because he didn’t understand this part himself: “And I make it better?”

“For about two days, give or take.” There was an affected casualness in the tone, but Danny noticed the way his hands clenched into tight fists. It had been about two weeks since Danny had last been in a room with the man. Two weeks since Danny had had any physical contact. He harshly clamped down the projection of longing before it could escape his grasp.

It was, Danny realized, no wonder that Helmet had chased him so vehemently. He could not only hear Danny’s call for him, but he had something of his own he struggled with. Something that Danny could apparently do something about, or rather his core song, if Danny was putting the pieces together right.

But Helmet wasn’t chasing now. It must have been two torturous weeks.

“You have found a way to nullify my powers, why not just use that?”

Helmet’s jaw clenched. “It’s not exactly nice.”

“Didn’t stop you two weeks ago.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” He snarled taking a step forward eyes glowing ectoplasmic green.

Danny took a step back at once cautious and intrigued. Not a ghost, but definitely something.

It looked like it took great effort, but he stepped back, plastered himself back against the cupboard and his eyes were blue again. Softly, he whispered “I only ever wanted answers.”

He wanted help. Danny’s breath caught. He was asking Danny for help, even if it wasn’t in those specific words. Danny looked down at the handwritten note in his hand. Helmet hadn’t planned for meeting today. He’d been just as shocked as Danny. He’d written him instructions with no guarantee Danny would ever help him, despite struggling with this anger.

Danny did not owe him anything, Danny was not beholden to anyone in this dimension, but he was asking for help.

Danny hesitantly stepped around the counter.

Mentally he countered each argument for why this was stupid.

He took a step forward. There was no trap. Danny chose to believe him when he said he didn’t want to use whatever device that had been on him.

Danny took another step forward, and step after step until he was right in front of him. Danny didn’t look up to see whatever expression may be on his face, it was easier like this standing face to chest. And it was a nice chest, wearing a red henley worn soft and fuzzy through countless washes. It was easy to take the last step into his space and lean his forehead forward to rest against him.

It was harder to let go of the tight ball he’d pulled his emotions into.

“Can I?” Helmet asked, arms hovering slightly away from him.

“Yeah,” Danny replied hoarsely, and then arms settled around him hesitantly, warm, human - not tight or trapping him, it was considerate but not what Danny needed. A wounded sound left his chest and he pressed closer. He clenched his eyes shut but still tears ran wet tracks down his cheeks as he finally gave in - let go.

His core was a cacophony of grief warring with happiness. Melancholy and joy twisting and churning neither one really winning. Danny was so tired and worn he couldn’t focus on what he should feel. All this and maybe he couldn’t even help him?

If he couldn’t get the happiness going what use was he?

But then the arms tightened around him and it was a proper hug. He was being held. There was a hand in his hair tugging him into the crook of Helmet’s neck, as he bent slightly over to surround him. Danny’s forehead against the crook of his neck, skin again skin. A warm body. A fast heartbeat in his ears.

He was not alone.

His core thrummed with the knowledge.

Danny lost time.

It was terrifying. It could have five minutes or an hour that they stood there for all Danny knew. He had been so lost in the warmth of human contact and the content song of his core.

A shiver of fear went up his spine and he tensed.

Last time he had fallen asleep. That, he could at least understand. He’d been extremely exhausted after everything that happened. But this was different. Danny didn’t even know if he would have noticed Helmet moving him - he hadn’t; they still stood in the exact same spot.

He made to draw away and for one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Danny thought Helmet wouldn’t let him go. But that was uncharitable, he had to give Helmet time to even realize what he was doing. Just cause Danny’s brain was running a mile a minute, and a second seemed like an eternity, didn’t mean it was to anyone else - and Helmet did let him slide out of his arms. Danny looked up, eyes just a bit wide. He was trying to stay calm, he was. He didn’t know how to interpret Helmet’s expression. His eyes met Danny’s, his brows were doing something, his mouth was a line downturned at the corners. His arms were raised, drawn back just slightly after Danny slipped away.

Danny took another step back.

Helmet didn’t move. Danny realized suddenly what the expression was; he looked sad.

Danny’s core pulsed painfully, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to go back to that embrace, he wanted to stay and forget everything else.

It was all he could do not to run, because those feelings were terrifying in and of themselves. He turned and he carefully walked to the far wall. He stopped there, clenched his trembling hands. His eyes trailed an uneven line on the white wallpaper.

This wasn’t just about him.

“The day after tomorrow,” he said, loud enough he was sure Helmet could hear him. Then he couldn’t hold back anymore and he threw himself through the wall. His heart raced in his chest all the way back to his lair.

It went against every cautious bone in his body to reveal he’d be somewhere at a specific time, even such a vague promise as the day after tomorrow. It was as much as he could get himself to do.

It wasn’t just about him.

Alright and that's probably it for the rapid updates, this part mostly needed edits to fit better with what actually ended up happening in the earlier parts and I hadn't written the ending, I wasn't sure I'd get the time today, but I did so, tadaa!

Things are going better! It's not all misery anymore.

Danny wasn't quite this terrified early in the story, but then he felt relatively safe in his ability to get out of situations. Having his powers knocked out, really brought up a boatload of trauma. It's just also really making him out of sorts to be that at odds with his core.

I hope it makes sense.

#dp x dc #dead on main #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections

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evilminji · 4 months

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You know what would be HILARIOUS?

For everyone NOT involved in the situation?

If the Uzumaki, mad lads that they were, seal master's who routinely moon the Shinigami for funsies that they are, got SUUUUUPER drunk? And were like?

"F-! *hic!* FUCK your fancy ass Summons contract Himiko! I got one TOO, you know. A..An' it's TOTALLY better then yours! It's got BLACKJACK! And hookers!" *falls on their face unconscious*

Needless to say? Not their proudest moment. Actually, their kinda deeply embarrassed. But like FUCK ARE THE BACKING DOWN! Their mouths wrote a check their ass can't currently cash... so the only REASONABLE solution? Apologize and tell the truth? Psh! NO.

Break Reality Until It's TRUE.

THEN they weren't technically lying!

They're a GENIUS~☆! :D

And yes, yes this IS normal behavior for them. It's both cultural AND genetic. There was a REASON people were terrified of those insane mother fuckers.

Because? They just? MADE UP a A Summons Contract. With Who? Dunno! We're gonna find out! But it looks right Seals wise! *signs name before anyone with sense can stop them, does the signs, draws blood aaaand?*

POOF!

Nani THE FUCK!? Says local dead Japanese 16th century fisherman who was flying by to visit the Lair of his buddy the 14th century monk. Behold! A FUCKING ZONE GHOST! He is unsummoned before he can react.

The Uzumaki have A Ghost Contract™.

.........th....they may have fucked up.

YOU THINK?

Roars basicly the ENTIRE Elders council. Who FUCKING FELT THAT. Because EVERYONE Felt that. They're SENSOR. That was a HOLE in REALITY that somehow GLOWED like a BEACON of both absolute Nothingness and Death! You TRAUMATIZED THE KIDS, YOU ASSHOLE!

Still....they ARE ninja. And Curious mother fuckers to the last.

So basically EVERYONE and their dog signs it. They somehow get WEIRDER. Bigger Chakra reserves. Obsessive tendencies. Meh, you win some, you lose some.

But? Then they fuckin DIE. (And their WHOLE ASS VILLAGE SHOWS UP IN THE ZONE. OH GOD, WHAT-!?)

And some grave robbing fuck tries to use the Contract. SUPRISE MOTHERFUCKER!

Ghost Uzumaki!

Your literal worst nightmare!

They DO NOT try using it again. It gets sealed DEEP. Until the Hokage gets wind of it. And, of course, Danzo. The Hokage sends Hound. And Team Kakashi on a completely unrelated but nearby "help a farmer" mission. Danzo sends assassins. Because he's fucking awful.

Kakashi gets the scroll.

Yep. Creepy rambling and shit handwriting, def Uzumaki. Time to go.

He gets attacked on the way back to camp. GDI Root. Well, its you or me. Sucks for you, I guess. They fight. They get a lucky shot. He bleeds on the scroll, doesn't notice. But SURELY... SURELY it isn't CROWDED enough with names that the Uzumaki just added a "and anyone who bleeds on THIS part at the bottom _______ plus does the handsigns" towards the end.... RIGHT??

RIGHT?! Look him in the EYES Uzumaki Clan, RIGHT??!

They would prefer not to answer that. The Vibez here are getting REALLY aggressive, you know? >.> It made sense at THE TIME...

So... he goes to summon his Dogs.

And he SURE DOES GET UM.... plus One(1!!!).

Who the FUCK is this glowing green dog? A puppy? Kakashi seeing the dimwitted looking little thing about to get STABBED tries to rescue it. It takes one look look at him (worried for it), the other dogs (growling at his enemies, fighting) and... turns around, shifting as it does, to HUNDREDS of times it's previous size.

Like an Akimichi transformation.

A sudden, hulking, green WOLF with red glowing eyes and killing intent that would Rival a demon's. The howl is unearthly. It joins the fray like a meat thresher.

Then pops back to a floating, tongue lolling, dimwitted pup the second everything is done.

G...God boy?

Far be it for KAKASHI to fear a dog, no MATTER how dangerous. So he carries it back to camp. Where it seems to instant fall in LOVE with Naruto. They become the BEST of friends.

There's frolicking.

Looking down at the pocket with the scroll he reclaimed? Yeah. Yeah that tracks. According to Pakkun, the pup has a "weird, echo-y" accent and is incredibly scatter brained. Training to be a gaurd dog? WAS Training. IS currently... what.

Okay. IS currently the gaurd dog/pet of an Emperor. Because THATS not alarming. Did the Royal family all... wait... he examines the pup again. Transparent. Was it KILLING intent he felt... or a Deathy pressure? Didn't the Uzumaki have Forbidden soul and death seals? It would stand to REASON...

Oh god damn it.

Pakkun. Pakkun please tell me that pup is ALIVE.

(He can not.) (Hilariously? Dispite being TERRIFIED of Ghosts? Naruto is TOTALLY COOL with Zone Ghosts? Don't be MEAN, Sensei! They're just PEOPLE! It's not THEIR fault They're dead! Now GHOSTS? Spooky and EVIL! Totally different.)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay

#dpxnaruto #dp x naruto #minji's writing #green doggo au #wait wrong dog! au

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frogchiro · 1 year

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So uh hellooo hii (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) I saw your Pervy!141 posts and immediately loved how you wrote it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) (gave me happy tingles tbh) and like any thoughts about Pervy!Keegan or Krueger? ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

Hiii!! Sorry for the late reply since there were some technicall difficulties but now we're more or less on track again 😭 i hope you'll still like this darling!!

Pervy!Keegan tries to play it cool, like he's better than others. He sees how the other guys basically prey on you, stealing your clothes, cornering you, bullying you into submission, sparring with you just to be able to grind on you and hump you as you fluster and ask them to please contain themselves in public. But he's different! Sure he thinks you're pretty and all, a cute girl and a sight for sore eyes after only seeing dirty grown men-soldiers all the time but he's not like that, he's different, respectful and even slightly cold.

....Well that didn't last too long. Keegan is cursing under his breath, almost growling as his bright blue eyes narrow while looking at the delicate pink material of your oanties tightly clutched in his big rough hand and the other is shoved down his boxers as he jerks off furiously. But it's your fault! You shouldn't have showered in the one small shower of the old safehouse where the rest of the team showered too. So what if you were standing behind some old, dirty curtain? Everyone could still see you (or at least imagine) and Keegan could swear that he heard Soap growl and snap his teeth when he caught your delicious scent like some bloodhound. So now he's stuck jerking off like some fucking teenager with the panties he skillfully snatched from your bag and stuffs them into his mouth so he won't be caught or else he'd be dead meat.

Pervy!Krueger tho? Totall opposite. He's shameless, dirty and has no rules. He's a menace to society. Actually one of the men who bullies you with his bulky body into corners, teases you mercilessly, makes you kiss his scruffy cheek and the corner of his mouth. Will shamelessly take your panties or shirts and jerk off into them, his cum staining them but it makes it all so much better since for him it's a sign of his claim over you.

Ghost, Price, Gaz and so one can growl at him and curse him out all they want, he will smirk at them and flip them off as he has one arm thrown over your shoulders and goes right back to tell you stories of his missions with Chimera while having you in his lap, refusing for you to leave and bringing you even closer by pushing your ass over his twitching cock♡

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #my first time writing for them ;;#cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ x reader #krueger x reader

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python333 · 1 year

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I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies.

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook.

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted.

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything.

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him.

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed.

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies.

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first.

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died.

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn.

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm.

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in.

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics.

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here?

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you.

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them.

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline.

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly.

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat.

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you?

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge.

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired.

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to.

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite.

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air.

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything?

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something.

That’s Ghost.

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing.

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you.

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold.

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door.

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky.

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again.

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused.

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise.

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly.

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on.

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out.

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions.

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying.

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so.

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth.

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

—

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago.

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open.

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks.

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk.

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.”

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.”

“You get asked that often?”

“I only get asked that by you.”

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?”

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat.

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?”

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].”

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it.

“Then stop trying to sass me.”

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.”

“Isn’t that what you are, though?”

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.”

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.”

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up.

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.”

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down.

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.”

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed.

“You’re too stubborn.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly.

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder.

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.”

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.”

“Well…”

“Well, what?”

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—”

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.”

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk.

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—”

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him.

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?”

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation.

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.”

“… No you’re not?”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly.

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.”

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him.

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?”

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!”

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!”

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.”

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.”

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.”

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.”

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.”

“You find them funny?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.”

“Some of them are pretty funny.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The Mayflower one.”

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?”

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?”

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?”

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?”

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything.

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips.

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin.

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go.

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.”

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.”

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…”

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.”

“Good to know,” You nod.

“But that’s only a hypothetical.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.”

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed.

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.”

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude.

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

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sandinthemachine · 2 years

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König x Ghost x Reader Headcanons

Wrote these a week or so ago to help with visualizing some one-shots I'll be doing, but they might take awhile so I'm posting these as a little teaser :) both sfw and nsfw

Part 2

Sfw

Simon and König have a running game where they hide each other’s favorite mugs in weird hard to reach places. Simon was winning until König got pissy and started putting them on top of the cabinets in full view just outside of his reach. Simon broke your only stool trying to get them and still hasn’t lived it down.

Technically you’re in on this game but you haven’t noticed yet because every time one of them hides your mug the other finds it and puts it back where you can reach it (since you now have to get a new stool before you can reach anything on your own, thanks a lot Simon).

Simon usually wakes up first, tending to patrol the house before settling down on the couch with a tea. If you teach him how you like your tea or coffee, he’ll have a hot cup ready for you by the time you come down. König lost that privilege after you dared him to swallow his tea bag and he did it without question, so now he’s banned from the tea stash.

Simon got him back for the tea bag incident without even meaning to when you were all stationed in the U.S. He was in charge of grocery shopping the day you arrived and the only breakfast foods he bought were…beans and American toast. He wasn’t even paying attention to the bread quality.

Simon is now banned from the kitchen every time König makes bread. Apparently his bad energy will taint the dough.

You’re allowed in the kitchen but not allowed to help yet because you always get distracted and over knead the dough. You don’t mind, though. It’s nicer to watch him work. Simon comes and watches too once König is too hyperfocused to notice.

You and König tend to switch off cooking or help each other out while Simon does the dishes.

Simon isn’t a bad cook, and he’s really good at cooking meat except fish. You refuse to let anyone else touch the fish. He just never adds enough spices and he doesn’t even notice.

You get one day a week where you get to make a dinner as spicy as you want. Simon’s eyes will tear up every time. König used to cry but then he forced himself to eat extra every time to build his tolerance. Now spice day is his favorite day, and he hovers over your shoulder begging you to add extra so he can feel it burn. Simon refuses to kiss him on those days until after he’s brushed his teeth because his mouth still tastes like pain, and not the good kind (for Simon, at least).

You invested in an immense U-shaped couch with plenty of room for all of you guys to lay down while you hang out and watch TV, but in the end it didn’t matter because all three of you cram together on one end most of the time.

The bed is even worse. You picked out a lovely custom mattress and bedframe so all of you could toss and turn and not be woken up by König’s twitching when he falls asleep only for you three to end up literally on top of each other every night anyway.

On nights where you’re in the middle you have no hope of moving once they’re asleep. König has the habit of sleeping on his stomach with an arm and a leg flung over you and touching Simon, while Simon wraps one arm around you and holds König’s arm with the other, trapping you in a prison of limbs.

That’s all well and good as long as you can fall asleep first. If not, well…

Simon’s snores are fit to wake the dead (maybe that’s why they call him Ghost) and König could sleep through a nuclear apocalypse so you’ll just have to sit and listen.

If you do manage to worm your way out and happen to peek in on them before they wake up you’ll always find Simon tucked under König’s chin and wrapped up in his limbs. Simon will never admit it, but he’d pretend to be asleep for hours if it meant getting to stay like this. König knows when Simon is awake but he’ll never tell. He enjoys these mornings just as much.

When you’ve all settled in together, Simon is still very quiet and tends to show his love through acts of service. He’ll clean up your dishes before you can get to them. He’ll notice you guys ran out of something and go out to get more before you even notice. He’ll take you out for a late-night drive when you can’t sleep. He’ll sit and listen intently to König rambling for hours, even trying to ask questions and prompt him to keep going.

Simon doesn’t tend to ask for physical affection and can be a bit grumbly about it at first, but he comes to like being given it. When one of you sits on his lap or rests a head on his shoulder, he’ll wrap an arm or two around you and is the last to let go. When you’re all doing your own thing, he’ll come up with reasons to stand close to one of you or casually touch you as he brushes by.

Once König settles he becomes a veritable chatterbox, always having things to say and stories or jokes to tell. He loves listening to your jokes too, and has the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard, the kind of laugh that will have both of you guffawing along with him.

König also becomes much more direct at asking for physical affection, happy to drape himself all over both of you guys, hug you from behind, rest his head on yours, and all manner of other things.

König also really enjoys finding little gifts to bring home for both of you guys. You and him are big hikers, and you have a shelf dedicated to cool things you’ve found in the woods. Half of it is stuff König has found and brought back for you because he knew you’d like it, and his chest bursts at your grin every time he brings home something new.

König was the first to discover that dear old Simon has a sweet tooth, so he always seeks out new chocolates and candies from each country he is in to bring back for Simon. So far Peruvian dark chocolate is his favorite.

He also sometimes gets Simon obnoxiously printed balaclavas as a joke. Simon shoves them in the back of his drawers but never gets rid of them.

Neither of them wear their masks out in public. It brings more attention to them. However, they both prefer to stay away from big crowds anyway.

König loves it when Simon gives him piggyback rides. He’ll tuck his chin on top of Simon’s head and wrap his long limbs all the way around his shoulders. Simon chuckles at him but you all see how he blushes when König leans around to kiss him on the temple.

König tried to return the favor when Simon was recovering from a leg injury but the stubborn old Brit refused and got carried bridal-style instead.

They’re both happy to carry you if you want, but know that König will take that as an invitation to jump on your back with no warning. The man just doesn’t realize how big he is. If you can’t carry him Simon will catch you and take König himself, grumbling all the way.

Nsfw

König’s dick is longer by far, but Simon’s is thicker.

Simon doesn’t make a lot of noise during sex, and the sounds he makes tend to be grunts and huffs. When he moans loudly you know you’re really doing something right.

Although Simon doesn’t make a lot of noises, he is really good at dirty talk and knowing what to say to get both of you guys going. Sometimes it feels like he talks more during sex than any other time.

König is a lot louder and makes all kinds of sounds, from whines and whimpers to moans and screams. He’s not as good at dirty talk because he tends to lose himself very easily, lapsing into German and quickly becoming unintelligible even in German, just spewing nonsense syllables.

All of you are switches but Simon loves bottoming for König. Play with Simon’s cock while König fucks his ass and you’ll see how loud he can really get.

König likes it rough and messy with plenty of teeth and spit. He’ll leave scratches and love bites all over both of you when you let him.

König’s neck is really sensitive. You’ve gotten him to come untouched with Simon sucking hickeys up the column of his neck while you nibble at the soft spot under his ear.

Simon’s soft spot is along the small of his back between the back of his hip bones. Gently run your nails over it while you suck him off and you’ll make him shake.

König’s hair is longer than Simon’s and he loves it getting pulled.

Simon loves getting his upper back scratched.

Both of them love taking turns going down on you and then making out with each other when they can still taste you on each of their tongues.

They’re both military men with a hell of an endurance. That being said, Simon tends to last really long before he comes and then takes awhile to recover. König comes a lot sooner but bounces back a lot faster. When König is the giver, however, he always makes himself wait until the other comes first.

#könig #simon ghost riley #könig headcanons #ghost x könig x reader #könig x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Text

【 at the end of a day. 】

'i hope my own shoulders, and thick hands will become your comfort at the end of a tiring day. you did a good job, you worked so hard.' (ft. leona kingscholar)

gn! reader, word count: 1.7k, warning! mention of burnout and academic stress

a/n: i've been highkey stressed bc of deadlines, so i wrote this. this being self indulgent hurt/comfort with leona kingscholar. hope that everyone's taking care of themself this exam season ^^

To be honest, Leona was annoyed. But that was his selfishness talking, he wasn't annoyed at Yuu, he was more annoyed at all the deadlines taking up their time. He hasn't seen them in days now.

And to be even more honest, he was...worried. He stared at his phone, at how his texts and calls had been going unanswered for hours now. It was normal for them not to text everyday, but they had also told him that they get too engrossed in studying at times. Leona hazarded that this was one of those times.

That was why Leona was here, staring up at their self-imposed prison called Ramshackle, a bag of food in his hand. He was sure Yuu was in there, watching the flicker of their curtain from their open window. He trudged through the empty halls, climbing up the familiar staircase till he reached the front of their room.

He could feel the prickle of the ghosts' stares on him, and he turned into the empty air, "How long has the herbivore been at it?"

A ghost materialized near him, "It's been...hours since they've stopped to rest."

"And Grim?"

"Grim stormed out after they refused to stop and take a break," Another ghost said, looking sadly at the room.

"Alright," He sighed, hand on their doorknob. "Tell Grim to enter the room quietly when he's back. Don't worry, I'll get them to rest."

After the briefest of moments, he opened the door.

Light filtered through the open window, and he saw Yuu hunched over their desk. He saw a stack of textbooks next to them, accompanied by the faint glow of their computer screen. There were papers strewn all over the table and floor, and he even spotted what looked like dried alchemy ingredients in vials in the corner.

Leona wasted no time sitting on their bed. The creak most definitely drew their attention because they finally spoke, hand still scribbling on their notebook, "Grim? Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, I–"

"Try again."

And that was when Yuu finally froze. They turned slowly, a disbelieving look on their face as they saw him, "Leona. Did Grim ask you to come? You didn't tell me you were coming, I–"

"Was studying, I know," Leona watched as they scrambled to find something. "I called you a couple of times earlier, and you didn't reply."

They finally found it: their phone, buried under a stack of papers, "I'm...so sorry, my phone's out of battery."

"That's rare," Leona said, taking the phone from their hands and plugging it in. "How long has it been since you took a break?" He didn't really need to ask. He could see the fatigue smudged under their eyes, and in their unfocused gaze. It had been long enough since they took a break. But he wanted to hear it directly from them.

Yuu shrugged, "A couple of hours?" He sighed, approaching them.

"What time is it?" Leona towered over their seat, his arms boxing them in. "And don't even try cheating, herbivore." This close, he could see the messiness of their desk, the empty waterbottles discarded on the side, and the multitude of tabs open on their laptop. He could also see the sleepy droop of their eyes, their fingers reddened and raw from where the pencil had indented itself there for who knows how long.

They finally met his eyes, offering a tentative, "It's...uhm, 11am...?"

Leona's hands tightened its grip on their chair, "Herbivore, it's 2pm." He watched as the realization followed by panic play out on their face before he tugged them up.

"Sit on the bed. If I see you touching your computer or phone, you're dead meat," Leona ran a hand through his hair out of frustration more than anything. "And eat this. I'll go get you some water."

Once he saw them opening the bag, Leona made his way to their kitchen. He grabbed a tall glass of water, placing the empty water bottles in the sink before leaving.

When he made his way back up, they were sitting on the bed with a notebook open. Yuu raised their hands in surrender when they saw him, "You said no phone or computer. Nothing about notebooks."

Leona's jaw ticked, "Put that away and eat." They followed his order wordlessly, throwing the notebook onto the floor. Meanwhile he busied himself with their computer saving whatever was open, before closing it.

They had already scarfed down most of the rice bowl when they finally spoke again, "Are you mad at me?"

"More like frustrated at how bad you are at taking care of yourself when you study," Leona mumbled, pushing the water into their hands. They gulped it down all in one go and he sighed. "When's your next deadline?"

Yuu glanced at the clock, "4pm tomorrow."

"And how much is done?"

"Most of it, but–"

"That means you're sleeping. Now."

"Leona. I can't just...I can't sleep," There was this defeated look on Yuu's face and Leona wanted nothing more than to will it away.

"Elaborate for me," He sat across from them now, as they pushed around their rice. "Why can't you sleep?" Instead of answering, they let the silence grow, placing their food to the side table.

"It's...stupid."

"It's not stupid if you're still thinking about it," He frowned more openly now. He couldn't pretend to understand what they were going through. No matter how much knowledge he had, it would never give him the ability to read another's mind. All he could do was wait for them to open up.

"I just... Sleeping seems like a waste of time when I've got this much work," The words rushed out into the quiet of the room, and they gulped, as if they had been waiting to say them for so long. They almost choked on the words, their voice rising higher as they spoke, "It's stupid, because... well obviously you need sleep to be able to work. But I feel...guilty. There's so much to do and not enough time and I've been working deadline-to-deadline and...

Yuu head hung forward, "I'm so tired." The sentence was said in a whisper, almost like it was a plead for help.

"Herbivore..." Leona's heart ached for them. It wasn't only because of their struggles. No, it was because he was familiar with the feeling. Of wanting to do so much, and yet his body couldn't take it. Of struggling in vain in front of walls too tall for him to ever reach. Of the tiredness clawing at his limbs, until he had given up and surrendered to days of listless sleep.

"Let's sleep," Yuu nodded shortly; a clear attempt at deflecting. "I haven't slept since yesterday morning, I should—"

Leona caught their arm, meeting their eyes, "Hey. I can't say that I know what you're going through. But...I've been somewhere similar. And you're not alone. I see all the effort you're putting in; all that hard work. And I..."

Leona let out a soft sigh, his hand reaching to hold theirs, "I'm proud of you, okay?"

And he meant it. He meant every last word, because there was no one that could make him prouder than Yuu could. He just...hoped that they would believe him; believe in their own hard work and effort.

"Are you...trying to make me cry?" Their eyes burned with unshed tears as they glared at him, and Leona met their stare with a pang in his heart. It wasn't his intention to make them cry, of all things. He really was unskilled with words at times.

"No. I'm trying to get you to realize that you don't need to prove yourself to anyone," Leona wiped at their tears, and they leaned into his palm readily. "Not even to me, okay? Academics are important, but your health is more important."

"Then...could you..." They hesitated again and he squeezed their hand. "Could you stay here with me? Just until my assignments are done. You don't have to help or anything, you can just...sit there. Or nap."

"If that means you sleep and eat on time, then yes. Gladly," Leona strangely felt warm at the thought of them seeking comfort in him, warmer still at the way their hand held his. "You can always call me when you need me. You should go to sleep now."

The herbivore flopped back onto the bed, shuffling so they were lying next to him. Leona covered them with the blanket, an arm under his head.

"Thank you," Their voice was soft, a little wobbly. "For coming, and the food, and...everything."

"Of course," Leona said, voice equally as soft. "I can't just stand by and watch you wear yourself out."

"Thanks to my supportive and caring boyfriend, I can finally rest without feeling guilty," Their eyes finally fluttered shut, and Leona felt his heart squeeze. He leaned toward them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head. That drew a small smile from them before they were burying their head into their pillow.

Leona waited until he was absolutely sure they were asleep before finally sighing. He was still concerned about if they really were okay. What would've happened if he didn't come sooner? Would he have recieved a summons from Grim? Or worse...the infirmary?

Leona didn't want to think about that. But at least now he could make sure that they would be just fine. He wrapped his arms more securely around them, closing his eyes. For now, all he needed to do was sleep, and when he awakened, he could take care of them.

If what Yuu needed was his presence he would gladly give them his time. If they needed his counsel, he would listen and advice. And if in the end of the day, all they needed was someone to hold them, and tell them they did well...he would do it.

Leona would give them all the comfort that they deserved for that was what Yuu was to him. And he hoped that they would one day regard him to be the same. A warm place to come home to. A place only they knew, and only they could have. Right there, in each others' arms.

(as an easter egg, the title of this fic + the excerpt are lyrics from the song "end of a day" by jonghyun <3 it's a song that comforts me when i'm having a hard day, so i thought i'd share it)

and that's a wrap on the fic ! i hope you enjoyed and that it was able to bring you some comfort <33 if you wanna see more, come check out my masterlist ^^

#/trau writes #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #i was so tired when i wrote this and it really shows oughh #i hope it was comforting enough

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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

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Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 11

God this arc just keeps getting longer and longer. Luckily after this, I should be able to move ahead with the plot? I'm a few more minutes into the episode at least!

Anyway,

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Cassie sat next to him and bumped their shoulders. “We’ll figure this one out just like we have all the ones before.”

Conner sandwiched him on the other side. “Yep. And the Fentons don’t seem like the type to hide information. They’ll tell us everything we want to know.”

“You’re both right. We’ll fix this and be home before we know it.” Tim pulled out his phone. “I wonder if there’s any old news articles we can look up for more information. Danny told me about the first ghost attack. A ghost called Lunch Lady who used meat to attack people and was upset because Sam changed the school lunch menu.”

Bart blinked at him and sat on the coffee table facing him. “You’re making that up. You’ve gotta be.”

Tim laughed and shook his head. “Nope. We’ll have to see if he has a list of his rogues so far. They’ve all been so gimmicky. Kinda like Condiment Man in Gotham.”

At Tim’s direction, Bart and Cassie also began looking into various news articles and posts about the ghosts of Amity. Conner recorded their findings and Tim supplemented with information he’d gotten directly from Danny.

Research kept them busy for the next hour until the Fentons returned.

“Danny’s friends!” boomed Jack when he saw them.

“How are you four doing? Did you find the pantry? Enough things to eat?” asked Maddie.

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Conner. “Cassie and I also left to explore a bit and found a corner shop where we picked up a few things we knew Tim and Bart liked.”

“That’s great! Now, I see you’ve seen the news, and I don’t want you to be afraid. Jack and I are planning on training some of Danny’s classmates in ghost fighting, would you four like to join?”

Everyone looked to Tim who bit his lip in thought. “I— can we sit in on the first lesson? I’d like to see some more of your work. Danny’s told me a little bit about it, but seeing it in person is something else. But I also want to spend more time just with Danny since we haven’t met in person before.”

“Of course, honey!”

Tim had to force his smile to remain neutral at the pet name. His parents didn’t even call him ‘honey,’ let alone anyone else. “Thank you, Dr. Fenton.”

“Call me Maddie, dear.”

“And I’m Jack!”

“Yes, Dr.— er, Maddie, Jack. When will the others be here?”

Jack looked at…something on his wrist that must’ve had a clock feature and boomed, “Not for another three hours! School’s still in session, you know.”

Conner cleared his throat. “Will you need help setting up? Maybe you can tell us a bit about ghosts while we do. I’d never seen one before.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea! Thank you, sweetie!” said Maddie.

“Conner, my boy, the first thing you need to know about ghosts is that they’re evil and only want to hurt you. If you don’t remember anything else, always remember that,” added Jack.

Tim’s stomach sank at those words. Did Danny have to hear things like that every day? “How do you know they’re all evil?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, Tim! It’s because ghosts aren’t people. They’re post human consciousness imprinted on ectoplasm. They’re an echo of what they used to be and that echo wants to become a person again. But it can’t because it’s dead. So it lashes out at anything living around it. Either to steal their life or make the living like it.”

Maddie nodded. “Exactly. A ghost killed my best friend when we were girls. If you’d like, I can send you some papers Jackie-poo and I wrote about how ghosts form so you can have more information.”

Tim forced a smile. “That’d be great, thank you.” Could the portal be destroyed in some way? Would that keep ghosts from coming through and allow Danny to come with him to Gotham?

“Now!” said Jack. “Who wants to help me carry up supplies from the lab?”

Once again, Tim asked for some safety gear before going into the lab and Maddie shoved a white jumpsuit at him with a sticker of Jack’s face on it.

“This is one of Danny’s, dear. But he doesn’t wear them very often. Here’s another for you, Bart. It might be a bit long, but try it on and we’ll see what we can do. Cassie, Conner, you two will be a bit harder, but I think I should be able to coble something together. Hang tight a sec!”

“I guess we’ll go get changed, then,” said Bart as Maddie and Jack disappeared back downstairs to see what they had.

Tim held out the top and poked at the decal of Jack. Going to the edge, he worked a finger under the image and let out a sigh of relief when it came up. “These are removable,” he commented as he pulled it off.

“Fantastic!” said Bart, ripping his own off. “Come on, Rob. Let’s get changed.”

Upstairs in the guest room, Tim allowed himself to comment, “At least it’s not orange.”

“Everyone will know who we’re staying with, though.”

“Better than stepping foot in that lab with no protection.”

They were just finishing up when Cassie and Conner walked in with matching scowls. In their arms were a mix of orange and blue fabrics.

Cassie glared at them. “Not. A. Word.”

Tim smirked and held up his hands. “Who, me?”

Bart mimed zipping his lips.

“We’re just about finished here, though, so we’ll go help the Fentons while you two get changed,” said Tim. He couldn’t help the way his lips quirked as he looked at the clashing jumpsuit pieces as they passed each other.

Conner made sure to trip them with TTK.

Tim just smiled at him as he pushed himself up and left without another word, Bart a step behind him. The door was barely shut before they were laughing so hard they couldn’t walk down the stairs without gripping the railing.

“Good to see you boys are having fun! How do the jumpsuits fit?” asked Jack when he saw them.

Bart held up his hands to show how he’d folded the ends of the sleeves. “Not bad. Just had to roll up the sleeves and pants a little.”

Tim nodded his agreement. “Little tight in places, little loose in others. But I can move well enough.”

“Good, good! Now, want a detailed tour of the lab as we collect weapons to train Dan-o’s classmates?”

Tim didn’t have to hold back his sharp grin at that question. “Absolutely. I want to know everything.”

And Jack and Maddie were willing to share quite a lot. Conner and Cassie joined them ten minutes later, wearing jumpsuits cobbled together from spares of Jack’s and Maddie’s. Now that they weren’t rushed by trying to get out and manage an active and hostile ghost invasion, the tour of the lab was much more thorough.

Jack and Maddie were also happy to answer any questions the four had. As it looked, there was no actual organization to the lab. And in the fridge, food was stored right next to samples. The fudge hissed when Jack took out a piece to eat and Tim shuddered.

“Want one? My snookums made it! Best fudge you’ll ever eat.”

“Aww, thank you dear!” Maddie hugged Jack at his compliment and kissed his cheek.

“I— No. Thank you,” said Tim.

“Why do you have a stockade?” asked Cassie.

Tim gave her a grateful look and she winked at him.

“That’s to hold down ghosts so we can question them,” said Maddie.

“Yup! Restrain them in there and then you can use toys like this one”—Jack brandished a cat-o-nine-tails—“to force ‘em to talk!”

“Or the Fenton Prod,” added Maddie holding out what looked like an electric cattle prod. She pressed a button and the end sparked green.

Tim swallowed hard and clenched his teeth. Did everything these people make have to look so painful?

The rest of the time in the lab passed in much the same way. The four traded off who had to ask a distracting question as they were all more and more horrified by the casual cruelty displayed by Danny’s parents.

Eventually, the doorbell rang and they were able to return upstairs with armfuls of weapons. Maddie opened the door and Dash Baxter and his cronies stood there with sadistic grins.

“Dash, what a pleasant surprise to see you again,” Tim said with his own teeth bared. “I don’t think we got off on the right foot last night. I’m Tim. Danny’s told me so much about you.”

For a moment, the boy’s face showed confusion before it was wiped away with a polite smile. “He’s told us about you, too. I’m sure we’ll become great friends.”

Well fuck. Looks like the ghosts weren’t all gone after all. Tim held a hand behind his back and signaled danger to his friends. They needed to get away from here.

-----

We've got more with Jack and Maddie here! Hope you guys like how I write them. We already know this is going to turn into bad-parents Jack and Maddie based on what's going to happen in Arc 3. (Arc 3 will be the original prompt fill and it's fall out.)

Also, I think I'm going to change some things around in previous parts. I won't edit them on Tumblr, but before they go on AO3 they'll change. Tim is going to lie to Bruce a bit more than he has so far. He'll tell Bruce that Danny is Cassie's friend so he doesn't decide to look Danny up if he gets bored.

Next chapter will have Danny and co again!

I will no longer be managing a tag list for this fic, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates. I'm also want to get the first chapter transferred over to AO3, but I'm going to transfer the first arc of Ghost!Robin first.

I reblogged an ask game earlier today if anyone's curious about me. Check it out and consider sending something in!

#dpxdc #dead tired #tim feel his homicidal urges stirring #every robin gets them at some point #and bruce isn't here to keep them in check!#the rest of his team arent far behind #if tim goes evil theyll follow #its why they play villain tim bingo #to keep it from happening

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mikimakiboo · 2 months

Text

Master post because why not

I wanna keep track of my own stuff lmao

Latest update: 24/09

| Incorrect quotes

I'm not not gonna link all of them lol, but you can find them under the "original post" tag or simply the "incorrect quotes" tag with the multiple ones I reblogged

| Some fics

Wheels of misfortune (disabled AU, Nightmare angst)

Muffins (Real Age AU)

Surprise Adoption (Real Age AU)

Just like them (no AU, Nightmare angst)

Tiny Menace - Tiny Steps Forward (Bitty Nightmare AU, related parts)

Your meat isn't dead, it's still moving (Ghost & Medium AU, Horror encounter)

You will be fine, now (16+) (Bitty Nightmare AU, angst)

Two for the price of one (Double Noot / Noot² AU)

| Disabled AU

The idea for the disabled au comes from @/unknownchoatic

Paraplegic Nightmare: first and second post that started everything, + wheels of misfortune

Aphasic Horror

ASD/Blind Killer

Schizophrenic Dust

Schizophrenic Error

| Gifts and Collabs

Every gifts and collabs I did for/with @/ancha-aus ! (the AUs are hers)

• Real Age AU

An AU in which Nightmare reverts back to his passive form (who is still six years old) and where the gang now takes care of him like their own child

We have two fanfics:

Muffins

Surprise adoption

And two fanarts here and here !

• Ghost and Medium AU

I simply wrote some interpretations of everyone's backstories :) so it's not canon ! (Unless she says so)

Biiiiiig post explaining everything (containing additional links)

+ fic Your meat isn't dead, it's still moving

In this AU you will find: medium Dust, ghost Killer, priest Cross, ghost Horror, demon Nightmare, and god Error

• Double Noot / Noot² AU

An AU in which Corrupt (aka Corrupted Nightmare) gets separated from Nightmare (aka passive Nightmare) who is still a child, turned out Corrupt was holding him without knowing it to give him time to heal

Reblog chain that kinda started it all

Fanfiction: Two for the price of one

| some headcanons

Not all 'cause I did so many lol and there's so much already omg

Holding hands (Nightmare)

Biting (Dream&Nightmare)

General Nightmare headcanons

Nonbinary Nightmare

Dream and Nightmare NSFW headcanon (not explicit but please be 18+)

Puns (Nightmare)

Nightmare's sexuality

Some Dream headcanon

Nightmare's bad eating habits

Fresh's soul

Kisses (bad sans poly/Nightmare)

Looking up to the grown ups

Horror feeding everyone

General headcanons about the mtt as a poly

Dreamtale twins' emotions affected by their aura

Nightmare and animals

| HHTYD Crossover

Nightmare has automatonophobia

Nightmare's blind spot

A weird crossover au idea I had, featuring the Dreamtale twins as dragons

| song analysis

Lifeline by Thousand Foot Krutch and Passive Nightmare getting corrupted

Take it out on me by Thousand Foot Krutch and the bad sanses

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metal-and-machetes · 10 months

Text

Pretty Hate Machine

The Sequel to ‘The Downward Spiral’

If you dangle meat in front of a predator long enough, the frenzy that follows will be violent and messy.

This is a dark Ghostface fanfiction. Content Warning:

Fuck or Die

Violent sex

Blood play

Torture porn

Stabbing

Dubcon/noncon

Sexual violence

Humiliation

Degradation

Graphic descriptions of violence

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.

“I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

The words echoed in your head as you sat on a fallen tree trunk, leg bouncing as you stared out into the forest and waited. You’d been doing a lot of that lately… waiting. Waiting for the next trial. Waiting for the next killer. Waiting to be hunted down and slaughtered. Waiting to be a sacrifice to the Eldritch horror of an entity that controlled this place.

Waiting for him. You’d been waiting for what feels like forever for him. You lost track of how long you’d been here, it could’ve been months, years, mere days, you didn’t know. The others, they called in The Fog. They called themselves Survivors, they all got here in some mysterious way (though none of them had been brutally murdered after they were fucked by their coworker).

Sometimes you wondered if people were looking for you, if people were looking for Danny, Jed, Ghostface, whoever he was to people. You landed on the guess that they were looking for your body, and as far as Ghostface, you’re positive they assumed he skipped town after likely slaughtering you.

You’d been looking for him too. Rather, you’d been looking out for him. It was apparent what would happen when you finally encountered him. He’d hunt you like the rest of the monsters that lurked here, you and three others that were dropped into these… trials. Four against one, at a staggering disadvantage, since that one was a killer with a horrible weapon and you got a shard of glass if you were lucky.

So far, you faced The Shape, one of the survivors called him Michael. She came from the same place he did, Haddonfield, Illinois, her name was Laurie. Forever pissed that she was stuck in an endless cat and mouse game with the man who killed her friends. At least one of them could understand your position. The Trapper was another one that you encountered a lot, a burley man who set rusty bear traps in places you always seemed to be. There were more. The Huntress, The Wraith, The Nurse, The Doctor. Those are just the ones that stuck out to you. The ones you saw most often.

But where was he? Why didn’t you see him? Why were you actively looking for the one everyone called The Ghost? Why did you care? What the fuck was wrong with you? You hated the feeling you got when the others talked about trials with him, how you began to get jealous. Why couldn’t you see him? It was almost not fair. You should be grateful you’re not being hunted by the narcissistic, knife wielding maniac, but you miss him. Why was this entity separating you from him on purpose? Surely it’s not out of mercy.

It freaked you out how obsessive you were about him. Danny consumed your every thought at the fire. The others asked you about him once he began showing up in their trials. Theirs. Not yours. They asked why he chose you (you didn’t know). They asked if he carved the word ‘MINE’ into your arm (you lied, it was your ex, they believed you). They remarked that you must be so happy you haven’t had to face him (you weren’t).

And fuck you for that.

You hated, loathed the idea that maybe you missed Jed. And then you’d remember that Jed doesn’t exist. Jed is a lie. Jed is Danny. Danny was behind murders states away from Roseville. Danny is Ghostface. Danny is unhinged. Danny is a good fuck. And fuck you for wanting him to fuck you again.

The man in the glasses and the tie, Dwight, sat next to you.

“What does he do in those trials?” you asked, staring into the flames.

Dwight swallowed. “He’s brutal. He hides around corners and in windows and watches us.” Gross. He’s such a fucking pervert. “I think he looks for you.”

That got your attention. “What?”

“I’ve noticed he gets worse when he figures out you’re not there. It’s like all of a sudden this rush of anger goes through him and he’s tunneling survivors, he’s brutally playing around, he’s watching us suffer on the hooks, he’s collapsing the end game. It’s terrifying.”

You scoff and then let out a laugh, which earns you a few looks from other survivors. “So he throws a fucking temper tantrum.”

“Temper tantrum?” The girl in the beanie, Nea, sneered. “Is that what you call it when the rest of us are being brutalized because you’re getting spared?”

“Nea…” Dwight warned.

“Spared?” You laugh again. “Spared? Did you forget what got me here? That asshole stalked me. He broke into my home. He bludgeoned me, then he tied me down, then he tortured me,” you conveniently leave out the part where he fucked you with your blood as his lube, “and then he cut my throat open. And now I’m here. So, yes, it is a temper tantrum.”

She started swearing at you, but it was drowned out by the loud hum that overtook your mind, you knew that tug. The Entity wanted to be entertained. That’s all these trials were for it. Entertainment. You grunted and closed your eyes, and when they reopened, you were staring down the streets of Haddonfield. Shit. Another trial with The Shape, at least, that’s who was normally here, or the Legion, creepy bastards.

These trials were simple enough. You and three other survivors were to fix enough generators to power on the gates that led to an exit. You just had to deal with a murderous nutcase of the Entity’s choosing chasing you down in order to shove you onto a sacrifice hook, or to murder you themselves with something the others referred to as a mori.

You got right to work on a generator, moving hastily as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. You’d gotten good at this game, you escaped a lot of the time, generators were tricky, but you were fast.

A scream ripped across the street, freezing you in your tracks before a bell rolled and signaled the death of one of your fellow survivors. That was fast… almost too fast. Was it The Hillbilly? No, you didn’t hear the chainsaw. The Hag? Maybe Michael really was the killer this time. You abandoned the generator and ran towards the scream, then you stopped.

‘Idiot! This is exactly how people die in horror movies!’ you scolded yourself. Not only that, if the killer had been blessed with the ability to use their mori, you’d be even stupider to investigate. You’d be a brainless moron. The kind of brainless moron that you used to point and laugh at in those stupid 80s slasher movies.

Then you felt a new sensation. Like someone was watching you. The hair on your arms rose, you were oddly aware of your pupils dilating and your forehead breaking out in a sweat. It kept you frozen where you were. This was different from when Michael was the killer, you never got the feeling of a dry throat or like you were hyper aware of your surroundings.

The others have talked about this feeling. Obsession.

Fucking fuck, you were the killer’s obsession.

Without a thought, your legs sprang into motion, you sprinted from between the houses you had stopped at. You had to get away from the area. Go! Run! Hide! You became less human and more animal as you banked around a corner and dove into in a locker, hand clamped over your mouth and nose, trying to will your heart to slow, fearing that it would be heard. Footsteps approached from the side, pausing in front of the doors. The shadow casted through the vents wasn’t anything overly huge, but it vanished before you could pick it apart. At least you knew this was a stealth killer, not one of those hulking brutes like The Trapper or The Executioner.

You didn’t dare move until the feeling of being an animal hunted left. When it felt safer, you carefully exited the locker and ran the opposite direction to continue on your generator. As soon as it popped, you bolted, still unable to shake that lingering feeling of being watched.

Not moments later, the explosion of a mis-crossed wire on a generator was heard, followed by a scream piercing through the air and then a bell tolling.

What the fuck…” you murmured. This only confirmed that it had to be a stealth killer. Which only left you with a few options. The Wraith, the Pig, Michael… or him. You heart pounded a little harder. There was a 25% chance you were in a trial with Danny. One where you were the obsession. One where he could slaughter exactly as he pleased. One where you were now down two teammates.

You were completely and utterly fucked.

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a scream before another hand slapped over your mouth and a bloody Ace shushed you. “Shh! Sh! I’m sorry, listen- fuck- I need you to help me out!”

The gambling man was stabbed blood pouring from between his fingers. You nodded as he crouched down and you quickly started packing the wound. “Wh-who is it?” Your voice wavered, terrified of the answer you already knew.

“It’s The Ghost.” Ace grunted as you faltered a bit. “Ah! He- he knows you’re here, kid…”

Before you could form a coherent thought, a shadowy blur launched from the shadows and tackled Ace from you, knocking you flat on your ass. Ace rolled onto his stomach, I’m the process of yelling for you to run, but the knife was already in his back, puncturing his lungs before he brutally stabbed through his sides, head ripped up and the flash of a camera capturing a fresh kill. You stared up from your ass in pure horror as Danny examined his photograph and slowly raised those black, soulless pits of the mask to meet your terrified eyes.

“Fucking finally.” His voice was distorted by that fucking modulator, nice to know he didn’t drop the act here. He tore the knife from Ace’s back, standing. You scrambled back as his boots crunched on the gravel. “You’re all mine, bitch!” You screamed as he wiped the blood from his knife, turning and stumbling as you got up and ran, hearing the most unhinged cackle fall from the throat of the killer. Your killer. You vaulted over windows, threw down pallets, you tried to get away, but there was no escape, it was a fact you were so devastatingly aware of. You finished one generator, all three of your teammates were dead before you could even process you were alone.

Worst of all, he was pissed. You came to realize that night before you came here that Danny had some serious anger issues. He had an incredibly short fuse. Even answering his questions slower than he wanted pissed him off. And now, after probably having to watch you for however long you were here, not being able to have you? He must be irate. Evident by the fact he just brutally murderer Ace in front of you.

You turned into a house, rocketing up a flight of stairs and wedging yourself under a bed, hands clasped over your mouth to quiet your breathing. You heard the pallet you had thrown down across the door shatter under the force of Danny’s boot. “You can’t hide here, sweetheart!” he snarled from downstairs. You hear doors open and get slammed shut, pans clattered to the floor as he stalked through the house. “It’s just you and me now! No more hiding, no more watching, no more fucking games, you’re finally goddamn mine!” Floorboards creaked as he ascended the stairs and tears rolled down your cheeks until it went quiet. Damn him. Damn you for getting wet over this. What the fuck was wrong with you?

“Found you.” A hand wrapped a crushing grip around your ankle and dragged you out from under the bed, kicking and screaming as he shoved you against the wall by your throat. The soulless black abyss of the mask’s eyes bore into you with more emotion than you think any person could ever have. Because Danny was beyond pissed.

‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit!’ You kicked your legs and caught him in the stomach, falling out of his grasp and attempting to make a run for the door, only for your ankle to be caught again and you to land on the dirty hardwood face first, nose crunching and bleeding at the impact. Danny dragged you back to him and wrestled you into his arms, falling back as you knocked your head back to collide with his. You weren’t going to go down like last time, you were going to fight, you were going to make it as hard as you could for him. Maybe he’d get so angry that he’d just kill you instead of what you knew he was going to do.

He suddenly threw you to the ground like you weighed nothing before standing and kicking you in the gut. You wheezed, has he always been this strong? No… no way he had been. “Hey, doll? Did you miss me?” He growled, grabbing your hair and wrenching you up.

“Fuck you!”

“I see you haven’t lost that fuckin’ fight.” he growled. It wasn’t playful, it wasn’t giddy. It was said with downright terrifying annoyance as he hauled you to your feet and slammed your face against the wall, cheeks crushed to it, your back to his body, blood pouring from your broken nose. “She hasn’t broken you quite yet.”

“Go to hell, Danny!”

He pushed you harder into the wall, the splintering wood cutting into your cheek. “Choose your next words real fucking careful, sweetheart. I’m already having a bad fuckin’ day and I will gladly take it out on you. And I’ll make it really fuckin’ slow and painful… just for you.” You whimper, ultimately going lax under his fingers and taking a deep breath. This is what you wanted, right? To see him? Feel him? Touch him? This was what you asked for when you brooded over the fire and laid awake being jealous of your fellow survivors and angry that he may have their pictures too. “That’s it. That’s it, doll.”

You winced as he pressed against you, heavy breath muffled by the mask, erection pressed against your ass. You were not going to make it easy for him. “I heard you threw some temper tantrums when I didn’t show up in the trials.”

He slammed your head against the wall again and your vision blurred. “The more attitude you have, the worse this is going to be for you. I’m not above gouging out new holes to fuck instead of your pussy.”

Your eyes watered as you whimpered. Then tears started spilling from your eyes. You heard plastic hit the ground as Danny ripped it off his face. He trailed the tip of his knife down your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your temple, his hair damp with sweat. “Listen, and listen closely.” he growled into your ear. “You’re going to cooperate. I have waited since I got to here to have my way with you again. I even cut a deal with the Entity.”

“Wh-what kind of deal?”

He let out a soft breath of a laugh before grinding his hips against your ass and let out a soft groan. “We show her how far I can push you, I get access to you outside the trials. It’s a win-win.”

“Sounds more like a win for only you.” you muttered. The knife bit into your cheek, and to your utter humiliation, you whined. He shifted your position and held you to the wall by your throat. The eyeblack was still there like you remember, but he didn’t have your blood splattered on him. Danny smiled as he observed the shine of the knife.

You swallowed as he gave you that stupid smirk before he licked the blood from your cheek then leaned down and kissed you, the knife disappearing back into its sheath. You let out a muffled yelp, trying to find a way from between him and the wall. His hands ran up your arms, one descending down your spine while the other firmly cupped the back of your neck to keep you close, effectively cutting off any and all escape routes.

You shoved him back but he just locked his fist into the hair at the base of your neck and yanked your head up towards the ceiling as hard as he could. “It’s pathetic how you think struggling will get you anywhere, doll.” He made his point by stabbing your leg and dragging the knife upward, shuddering as you let out a high pitched scream. “Fuck, I love when you scream for me.”

“I hate you.” You growled, tears freely flowing now as the knife ripped from your leg and was lodged into the wall.

“Is that why you sit at that fire and stare out into the forest? Because you hate me?” Danny scoffed, roughly shoving his hand into your shorts and gliding his ring and middle fingers through the wet folds of your pussy, pulling a whimper from you. “Look at that, still a filthy slut for pain? Do you soak your panties for all the killers when the chase you down, or am I special?”

You glared at him as you tried to control your breathing and hold back your whimpers. He pressed his forehead against yours and focused his fingertips on your clit, slow circles stimulating you further, causing your eyes to drift close and your mouth to drop open.

“She kept you from me. She made me wait and watch. She tortured me by dangling you in front of me like I was a starving dog salivating after a slab of fucking meat.” He yanked you off the wall, taking the knife with him in the process, and pushed you back on the bed, straddling you, your blood soaking the fabric of his pants. “I have so many pictures of you. I’ve made a pretty collage of you.”

His eyes were crazed, he looked like a junkie that finally found his fix. He practically devoured you again, teeth clacking against yours as the knife tore through your top and shorts, nicking your skin, bright red blood blooming from the cuts. He was careless, you were probably in more danger now than you ever were the night he brought you here. But oh god, did it feel good when the worn leather of his gloves caressed your tits and pinched your hard nipples.

‘Fuck it.’ You reached down and cupped his pants, whimpered when he immediately started grinding his hard cock into your palm. He grinned against your mouth and broke away from you, pressing his knife against your throat.

“You try to run and I’ll pin you to the wall by your throat and fuck you that way.” When you nodded, he stood up walking backwards until he collapsed back in the chair, legs open wide. “Now, I didn’t get my cock sucked last time. Crawl to me, take it out, and show me what a good little doll you are.”

You winced as you moved your leg, yelping as you crawled, the muscle of your thigh torn by his brutality. You dragged yourself into a kneeling position and started undoing the belt, sliding it off and working the button open and dragging down the zipper. You hated yourself as you pulled out his cock, mouth watering. You didn’t get a good look at it before, but the stretch you felt made sense. And of course the asshole had a pretty cock. Fuck him. And fuck yourself for liking it. The other survivors, they fucked each other, you however couldn’t stop thinking of the fuckhead in front of you.

“Hurry up, sweetheart. I’m not a patient man.” he growled.

“I’m well aware.” That comment earned you a blade in the shoulder, bone crunching, and you screaming. Danny seized your hair and shoved your mouth onto his cock, slamming into the back of your throat and causing a wretch to interrupt the muffled cries of agony.

“You’re real fuckin’ brave, you little brat. You love running your fuckin’ mouth so much, but we can find a better use for it.” You wretch again as he thrusted, forcing you to drool down his shaft before he pulled you off so air. “Get to work. Now.” It was so embarrassing how easily you bent to his will. The nail was in the coffin from day one.

He didn’t need to guide you anymore. Message received. So you immediately began stroking his shaft and licking at the bead of precum on his tip. How long had he been watching you in the trial? How many pictures of you did he take? How often did he masturbate to you? How many hours had he spent wanting you from the shadows just outside of your survivor camp?

You opened your mouth and gave the head of his cock a quick, sharp suck, causing Danny to moan and throw his head back. “C’mon, baby.” He seized your hair and forced you to look up at him and his camera, clicking away. “Put on a good show for me.”

He tasted like you imagined. Earthy, but with a hint of sweat from the hunt, and he kept himself trimmed neatly. Your mouth watered, hands bracing onto his strong thighs, tears running out of your eyes like the drool running out of your mouth. Oh fuck, he was addicting. Your nails dig into his hips and dragged down, leaving him shuttering and laughing.

“Ah~ f-fuck, sweetheart. You look so good with my cock in your throat.” He forced your head closer, shoving himself further down your throat and your nose against his body, gagging you. His cock twitched in your throat, you braced yourself to take every drop of his cum. “Sick little slut.” Danny’s hand wrapped around your hair, a delicious tug making you moan as he pulled you off his cock and caught his breath. Your spit clung to the tip of good swollen cockhead and connected to your lip as you gasped for air. “As much as I’d love to see you swallow my cum, I’d much rather paint that pussy white.”

He got up and dragged you to the bed, forcing you to stumble and cry out in pain when your leg dragged against the sheets on the bed, staining the dirty floral quilt with blood. More screams and yelps of agony fell out when he pressed your busted nose into the mattress. Danny’s fingers brushed your pussy, growling out a laugh.

“What would your little friends say if they saw you here right now, dripping, even with a broken nose, scared out of your mind? What would they say if they knew I carved out that scar on you?” Just as your mouth opened to snap back, the knife was shoved through your shoulder, point sticking out the other side of your body. “Learn how to shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”

You nodded, finally giving in, finally accepting defeat. God you were pathetic. How embarrassing. Still, he rewarded your response with gloved fingers rubbing your clit the way he knew would get you squirming and moaning. He practically snarled as he pressed his forehead between your shoulder blades, blood from your wound soaking his forehead. “Please, Danny… please I need you…”

“I know you do.” He shoved you back and pushed his pants lower. “Arch nice and fuckin’ pretty for me.”

You obeyed, whimpering as the knife shifted in your back, well aware of the clicking and the flashes of the camera. So fucking creepy. Danny gripped your ass and spread your cheeks open and gave your pussy a quick, experimental lick before he kneeled behind you. He roughly collected blood from the gushing wound on your leg and spread it onto himself, teasing your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it through your soaking wet folds, swirling it over your clit as you whimpered. More clicks. More flashes. God the disgusting gallery he must have of you.

“Please, just fuck me alre-“ you screamed out when he slammed his whole cock into your hole, grunting at the way you squeezed him hard. “Jesus Christ, Danny!”

“Ah fuck me. Finally… god fucking dammit finally!” He smoothed his hands over your back and sides, letting out a loud moan as he watched you take him, letting him thrust at a leisurely pace. Danny didn’t do gentle of course, he seized your hair and ripped your body up and against his chest, knife at your throat as he started pounding. You gasped and moaned, throat bobbing as you struggled to swallow without getting cut by his knife. “You’re so pretty when you’re being fuckin’ good for me.” He dropped the knife and fell forward, still thrusting, but now cheek to cheek with you as your arch deepened and his chest pressed down into your back.

He fumbled for a moment and regrouped onto your hair as the camera screen was shoved into your face. He forced you to watch as he flipped through photo after photo of you. You at the fire, you talking to the survivors, you sleeping. Occasionally pictures of your dead teammates showed up, until the trial now was apparent. It was only you.

You fixing the generator. You stopping in the alley. You running down the street, your terrified eyes as you realized who it was, you sucking his cock. Your pussy with his cock balls deep inside, blood smeared everywhere.

“You’re- mmh fuck!- You’re fucking crazy!”

Danny whimpered in your ear as you clenched in a particularly hot way before he bit on your lobe. “And you… fuck, you’re such a slut, ya know that?” he growled. “I just murdered your friends, I’m covered in their blood, and you’re still wet for me. You’re still taking me so good. Dirty little whore.”

You reached back and ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as you felt yourself clench as Danny‘s breath fanned your neck. You were disgusting. Traitor. Weak. You weren’t any better than him, because if you were, you wouldn’t be fucking him right now. You wouldn’t be enjoying it right now. He moaned again and pulled out, flipping you onto your back and slamming back inside, your breath rushing out of your lungs.

He suddenly tensed and braced himself over you, angling himself even deeper as he moaned and came inside you, thrusting through the waves of pleasure. He started laughing and tapped your cheek with his knife. “Good god, sweetheart look at that… making me cum so quick…” Your breath hitched as he pulled his cock out of you and spread your pussy open, laughing as he watched his cum drip out of your abused whole, mixing with the blood. Danny turned his attention to his branding on your arm, tracing the letters with the tip of the blade. “It’s cute how you lie about this.” There wasn’t an ounce of flirt in his voice as the smile vanished. “How you make them think you aren’t my property.”

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Danny.” you snapped. Before you could blink, the knife was through your hand, your high pitched scream piercing the air. “Asshole!”

“Don’t get smart with me, babe.” He twisted it, bones crunching. “Or I’ll carve a hole in your throat and fuck that next!”

You whimpered as he ripped the knife out of you, blood splattering on the both of you. The carnage was worse this time, you were practically covered and smeared in blood. “Please…”

“Please what? Please kill you? Please fuck you again? Please keep you here until she has enough and takes you away from me again?” He smirked, taking another picture of you. “Be specific.”

You hesitate, then swallow. “Please make me cum… I wanna cum… please, Danny, I’ll be good!”

Danny smiled and ran a hand through his hair, observing his blade before his eyes lit up with an idea. “Stick out your tongue.”

You obeyed, and his fingers started in on your clit. He pressed the knife’s base on you tongue before pressing his own to the other side, fingers now shallowly dipping into your entrance, cum leaking around the tips. Fuck, this was hot, the taste of the blood on the weapon, how the sides of his tongue pressed against yours as he slid the knife down between them, somehow managing to not cut either of you. When it was finally out, his tongue folded over your, blood and spit mixing as he finger fucked you.

Your breathing got heavy, a moan rose in your chest as his thumb played over your clit. You shook and reached up, fingers grasping his shirt as you broke the kiss to pant and whine and whimper. Your eyes shut and your thighs started tensing. Your tongue was coated in you and your teammates’ blood, the wound on your shoulder bled heavily and you’ve lost feeling in the shredded leg that was still spraying blood, your head was fuzzy, you were right there, so close, so-

He tore his fingers away and stabbed you in the stomach instead, right as you came, shock in your eyes as you coughed out more blood. “Fuck you!” He hummed with a smile as he slowly dragged the knife up and up and up, splitting your stomach and exhausting whatever adrenaline you had left to scream.

“A ruined orgasm is still an orgasm, sweetheart.” He smacked your pussy, splashing your cum on your thighs as he twisted and unsheathed the knife from your body. “Come to the edge of your little camp when you get back. Let’s see if this god of ours keeps her promises.”

#horror #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #dead by daylight #ghostface #fanfic

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lynnbeth5172 · 9 months

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Why Can’t You Be Alive? (One shot)

Warning: Slightly dead dove and a bit more hurt than comfort <3 ⚽️

Shauna Shipman realized she was in love a bit too late, when her body was racked with sobs and she begged her dead best friend to wake up. Regretting even letting her freeze outside.

‘Please Jackie…I need you.’

Now she was in the meat shed, she had done a bit of her chores and hence went to the meat shed where the bear meat was. Journal in hand as she wrote and sketched, this time an antlered deer. As she looked up and looked at the propped up body of Jackie.

“Remember how we met?” She knew it looked like she was talking to a ghost but she didn’t care much, as she looked at the face of her frozen friend; trying to imagine her face. When she didn’t reply, Shauna did.

“Met in first grade, someone pushed you off the swings and I took you to the nurse. You asked if you can have my name and I said it.” Shauna yearned for those times, when they didn’t fight over boys but fought over stupid things like ‘Chocolate cookies are better than peanut cookies’ or arguing over who stole Shauna’s apple sauce.

Then boys came into the mix, then a boy named Jeff Sadecki came along. The boy who used to glue his lips together with a glue stick became Jackie’s crush and eventual boyfriend in freshman year, Shauna had a crush on him since sixth grade. Which was when he stopped glueing his mouth closed.

That was when her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a small thud, Jackie’s body was slumped over. Due to rigor mortis setting in; her body was very stiff, sighing and moving up, she fixed her dead friend’s position back to how it was. That was when she noticed her lips, Jackie always had pretty lips. Lips that were always covered in either lipgloss or lipstick, it reminded her of when she used to do Shauna’s makeup and when it came to lips…their faces were almost always dangerously close, as if they were going to kiss.

Shauna pressed her thumb to the lips of her friend, leaning in slightly more as her breath could be seen her almost frozen lashes. She chose to ignore, imagining Jackie alive and what she would say. It was fucked up she knew but…a part of her just wanted her.

She could almost hear Jackie’s voice, her face. Her smile turning into a grin as Shauna moved closer, her breath being seen in the freezing air.

“I know you wanna kiss me, Shauna…do it,” Shauna moved more closer, cupping Jackie’s cheek as she leaned in and kissed her. A warm feeling was there inside her, a feeling that wasn’t there whenever she kissed Jeff. She wanted so desperately to just continue kissing, she wished she had did this before Jackie died. She wished she had dated Jackie.

Her lips were cold and stiff but she still kissed her.

As she moved away slowly from Jackie’s face, she laughed. Almost more mocking than anything

“Poor little Shipman, you can’t have me. I’m long gone.”That was when reality finally broke in, Shauna over Jackie’s freezing face. Her eyes were closed, not open. Her face was neutral instead of her teasing grin; and she was quiet, not speaking.

Shauna’s heart dropped a bit, she kissed her dead friend…dead, not alive, not reciprocating feelings because she can’t.

Her lip trembled as she moved to where she sat, tears started to fall from her eyes as she tried wiping them.

She missed Jackie more than Jeff.

She’ll always miss Jackie more than Jeff, she’ll miss her over anything.

Ever since she had a crush she thought she loved Jeff, but…now she realized that she loved Jackie. But it was too late.

“Why can’t you be alive…” as tears fell from her face she became very clear of the answer. As the corpse still had its eyes closed.

‘Because I’m dead…you can’t have a dead person.’

::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: :::

Short and sad, to all my Yellowjacket followers ❤️tbh I don’t know if I did well but I originally was sorta going for an Oliver and Felix thingy from Saltburn, with the obsession and all.

#shauna shipman #jackie taylor #jackieshauna #yellowjackets

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syntia13treeman · 8 months

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Case files 03.01

what I think happened in:

Case 03.01, the case of "Guilt in the Grief Garden" or "Ashes to ashes, meat to roots".

Oh boy, this one's a doozy. Let's go. On 3rd of April 2009 Special Constable Caroline Jennings, 2911, logs a homicide case involving: -Maddie Webber (deceased) -Gerald Andrews (alive ???) -grief counsellor Harriot Manning (hopefully alive) -Dr. Samuel Webber (deceased. Very, very deceased. He is SO dead you guys). -one buried briefcase with its content.

What we know: Dr. Samuel Webber had a wife (Maddie) and his work. He prioritized his work. Maddie was not very happy. Maddie left Samuel (possibly for Gerald), and left some of her things in storage unit when she moved out. Samuel was not very happy. He went to grief counsellor to deal. He got a nice grief-journal, but failed to deal. Obtained medical files of both Maddie and Gerald. Possibly killed Maddie (deceased). Possibly killed or planned to kill Gerald (no status note). Had a panic attack in public, shortly after the (possible) murder. He run away, decided to 'lie low'.

*deep breath* ok, here we go:

Smell of jasmine lures him into a garden that is in full bloom in December (sus) and surrounds 'ruins of bombed-out church' (very sus). He lies down in the wildflowers (as you do) and starts writing in his journal - thoughts, observations and lists. He likes lists. Then he starts hearing, and possibly seeing, Maddie (he seems to be gradually loosing memories, or maybe reliving random phases of his relationship with Maddie.).

And also he starts decomposing (starting from the scratches he got when getting through the bushes). And he's 'pruning' parts of himself. And he writes the whole process down, very clinically but also in a very poetically graphic way.

At some point he tries to leave but can't find a way out and might actually never have tried at all. Oh, and Maddie is definitely with him now, taking care of him and advising on gardening methods, so sweet of her.

Did I mention that at one point Samuel pulls his finger bones out of his left hand and plants them like seeds? He does that. Now you know.

And the more he falls apart, the more cheerful and awed by nature he gets. (Don't pay any attention to the deeply buried part of him that shakes in terror, it's not relevant). It's been night for so long, but now finally there's the sun and Maddie's with him and Samuel is happy. Also probably a tree, or, more likely, a shrub of jasmine.

What we don't know: anything.

Of note: Samuel was not in good mental state when he was writing (duh), and possibly hasn't been for a long time before that. The man is like an avatar of Unreliable Narrator. Any and all of the above might or might not have happened. Maddie left him, and she is dead - but did she leave him for a younger man, or did she leave because he was being both distant and possessive and controlling ("I worry when she is out alone"). (He got paranoid about someone looking at him in subway, he might have been paranoid about his wife talking to another man one time). Did he kill her, or did she die of illness / accident? Was the grief counselling for divorce, or for her death? He had medical files for the (alleged) lover too - did he plan on killing him? Did he succeed? More interestingly:

1). what is up with dates? The police has found and reported the journal in April of 2009, but the date of 'relevant entry' is 07-12-09. Read conventionally, that would be 7th of December 2009, so what's up with that? Was it:

time shenanigans?

Samuel was so out of it he didn't know what year it was

Samuel wrote the date backwards, so it was actually 9th of December 2007 when he got plantified, and his briefcase wasn't found until over a year later.

2). What about Maddie? Samuel kept hearing/seeing her while decomposing in the garden. Was it:

hallucination of his own guilt-ridden mind

Maddie's ghost

something else, using Maddie's voice to trick Samuel into false sense of security?

I don't know, but I see you, loss and regret and longing for loved one's voice. Don't think that I don't. I'm onto you, you little bastards.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp case files #tmagp case 03.01 #tmagp 03 #Gruesome Garden TM #ep. written by Graeme Patrick #ep. written by G.P+J.S+A.J.N

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daddyplasmius · 1 year

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hand on my stupid heart flashbacks

this is a No One Knows AU & Full Hazmat AU where Danny ended up in the Ghost Zone & didn't go back into the human world initially because he thought he was dead. by the time he realized he is, in fact, at least half alive, he'd already been missing for at least 2 weeks. will probs never finish homsh sorry. i wrote this a couple years ago in a haze & just haven't been able to finish it because i can't replicate the style, which i find is what i love about this fic the most. it wouldn't be the same without it. posting the flashback introsーwhich are meant to be read between chapters/the actual plot, starting after chapter 1ーcuz fuck it. excuse typos & shit, i never properly edited it, as i forgot it existed immediately after i wrote it original description of homsh: Danny Fenton has officially been missing for over a year. Maddie & Jack Fenton refuse to give up on their son. Sick and tired of the police running them in circles, and the case getting colder by the day, the Fentons turn to their last resortーPhantom. 800~ words (full unfinished fic is 20k~)

When Danny woke up surrounded by thick, green fog, and couldn’t breathe without swallowing heavy air that was more like water than anything, he was sure he was dead. The portal glowed behind him, illuminating the pitch darkness around him in soft, yellow, warm light.

He almost went back.

Almost.

He was dead. His parents were ghost hunters. They had drilled into his head from the moment he was born that he could never, ever panic in death. That he would accept it. That he would not be scared. So he would be prepared to be brave in the face of death and would not become a ghost.

He panicked. He did not accept it. He was terrified. And so he woke up in the Ghost Zone.

Danny went back through the portal when he saw some ectopuses acting… strange. Like they had an idea in their heads. Like they had a plan.

Which was weird, with animal ghosts. He had only been in the Ghost Zoneーmom and dad called it that, he rememberedーfor a couple weeks. Or, he had already been there for two weeks. Or maybe time worked differently and he was there five minutes, or four years orー

The ectopuses went through the portal and, despite everything, Danny went after them.

While he was busy reeling at being home, the ectopuses immediately attacked dad. Danny was horrified. Jack was overwhelmed. Danny stepped in, in a moment fueled by sheer adrenaline and stupidity, snatching a Fenton Thermos™ off a shelf and releasing his shaky invisibility. The ectopuses didn’t stand a chance. And when they were safely in the Thermos, he slowly turned around to dad, ready for the confrontation. Ready for the “what happened to you?” and the “where have you been?” and the “we’ve missed you”.

Dad scrambled to shoot at him.

Danny fled.

His parents didn’t recognize him.

The Lunch Lady attacked when Danny was mourning Halloween.

He’d waited all year. He made a costume that summer. He wouldn’t get to go trick or treating with Sam and Tucker this year. Or any year. For the rest of his lifeーor existence. Whatever.

The Lunch Lady appeared in the school and demanded in straight fury, “Who changed the menu?”

Everyone pointed at Sam.

Danny hadn’t known just how powerful ghosts could be. His parents never told him the specifics. Just that they were dangerous.

This ghost grew and her aura hit him like a hurricane, almost physically pushing him back. It was so strong that the students in the Casper High cafeteria seemed to feel it too.

The Lunch Lady was a much harder opponent than the ectopuses. She levitated meat. She used it as a weapon, and seemed to bring it back to life. She created weird meat creatures that grew sharp teeth and claws out of bones. They were mindless, attacking everything that got too close to the ghost. Danny would have run away without hesitation, if Sam hadn’t been in the crossfire.

Danny fought the Lunch Lady. It was a long struggle, but he caught her in the thermos after over an hour. When he turned to Sam and Tuckerーboth of whom he had to save due to Tucker trying to jump into the fightーall three of them bloody and bruised, he cringed. But a part of him hoped. Desperately.

Surely they would know him on sight.

“Wh-what are you?” Sam gasped at him finally.

Danny flinched as if she had struck him. “J-just… your friendly neighbourhood phantom.”

Danny didn’t know what possessed him. Oh. Pun not intended.

He just barely caught the Fentons leaving in the GAV, dragging suitcases behind them. He couldn’t help himself. What on Earth were they doing?

They were going to Vlad Master’s mansion for their college reunion.

It was a whole thing. But something was off. Besides all the adults reminiscing about the 80’s.

Danny sensed ghosts immediately but he couldn’t see anything. Unfortunately for him, Vlad could also sense him. It was two days of Danny staying invisible, and Vladーthe halfa? Is that what Danny is?ーtrying to kill Jack. Somehow, Danny managed to fight off Vlad, not turn back, and without the Fentons getting hurt. His secret intact.

VladーPlasmius, also learned about Phantom. And Vlad hated him. The manーghostーwhatever, seemed to only care about one thingーpossession. Of money. Of things. Of people. He was more ghost than Danny had ever seen. Vlad’s obsession was overwhelming.

Danny couldn’t believe someone so much like himself could be so disturbing.

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #danny phantom fanfiction #you know that gif of the wailing emoji dissolving? :Why:?#yeah that's what i do every time i remember i never finished HOMSH while i still had the style in my brain #feel free to steal this idea. please steal this idea. please write it i wanna see this idea so bad but im already writing another 100k+ fic #if y'all want me to post the full fic i can but. it is not finished & most likely never will be. sorry again #i won't lie. the haze i was in was a depressed one. i was. not in a good place At All when i wrote HOMSH #like the only part i remember actually writing was the panic attack scene & that's just barely #i reread the whole fic in the middle of the night months later while listening to Implode Alright by Built by Snow on repeat #yeah i cried. this one is funny but mostly it's just. mourning. grief. the works. it's a vent fic & also a. kind of. wishful fic #like. don't you just wish death wasn't so permanent. don't you wish you could tell them everything you wish you could #don't you wish you could just see them again #i'm actually writing this into a bigger ventier series currently called Let Grief Do Its Work #cuz i rewatched LUCIDS again recently & remembered what HOMSH was originally about. why i was writing it #i'm not calling it HOMSH cuz. HOMSHie is my baby. it's its own thing & i don't wanna ruin the vibes #reluctantly admitting i call an unfinished fanfic i don't remember writing... HOMSHie baby... in my head #yeah i have a cute nickname for my fic. what of it #it's 5am & i think i'll throw up if i think any more about posting unfinished unedited pieces of a fic so i'm going for it. cowabunga #go into the world. get your 2 notes you beautiful animal #*passes out*

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caperingcryptid · 11 months

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Parasites and Philosophy

A 1676 word oneshot featuring Astarion and a Gender Neutral Dark Urge.

I wrote this with a more platonic dynamic in mind, but a romantic reading is also entirely valid, if that's more your cup of tea.

Parasites and Philosophy They had done good today. If they had any doubt about that in their mind, it was dashed at the sight of the bobbing lights in the distance, moving up the road to Baldur's Gate like blood through veins…though of course, that would've scratched the deep-seated itch in the back of their mind far better than those living, happy, breathing people.

It would've been so easy to stem that lifeblood that were those drifting travelers. A few itty bitty throats slit, maybe one or two bellies shredded, and they would be little more than piles of satisfying meat cast from here to there. In their mind's eye, the Dark Urge saw themselves prancing among the newly dead, cracking bones under their feet like autumn leaves. They might even be so overtaken with delight that they'd sweep one of the corpses into their arms, and waltz them lazily across the spoiled dirt.

What would it be like, they wondered, to have gone down that path? Would the guilt eat at them as it had so many times before, when they felt no better than a rabid mutt in desperate need of being put down? Would the anguish outweigh the satisfaction, making them feel like a sapient being rather than the slavering mutt that they were to their urges?

Or would it feel like coming home? Would they feel the weight of conscience fall off their shoulders, giving them the blessed relief they'd been yearning for since the moment they stepped out of that mindflayer pod? They weren't sure of the answer, and they weren't sure whether they wanted to know, either. They'd come to find that the more they learned, the more they desperately wished that they didn't.

Memory, knowing, was the worst thing of all. The more that came back to them, the more that those Urges reared their great and ghastly head, the more that sickening blend of horror and pleasure overcame them. Perhaps it would be better to leave while they still had the chance (before their allies' good faith in them finally curdled, as it should have before). They'd tuck the artifact back into Shadowheart's bag where it belonged, or Lae'zel's, and let the parasite nursing behind their eye finally come to fruition.

Or maybe, a voice whispered in the back of their mind, they could do them all a favor. Their allies, too, were poor, troubled things. If they were going to turn tail and run, then it'd be the kindest thing to do to put everyone else out of their misery too. It would be the end of their worries. After all, you couldn't be haunted by the ghosts of your past if there was no flesh and blood left for them to haunt at all.

And it'd be so lovely. They'd learned so much about their team in the time since they'd banded together, but the more…literal mysteries of their hearts were still beyond them. They wanted to taste their blood. To know them inside and out (ha ha). They would make such perfectly pretty corpses, they were sure.

“Now what are you doing all the way out here?”

Speaking of perfectly pretty corpses…

They started guiltily, as if they'd been caught elbows deep in gore rather than staring off into the middle distance. Behind them, lips curled in a wry smile, stood Astarion, eyes gleaming in the dark like those of a woodland beast's.

“Here I was, looking for a quick bite, and what do I find but an empty bedroll where our darling little leader should be?“ He smirked. ”I thought I may as well come looking for you. Wouldn't want to find you ravaging another bard, now, would we?“

The Dark Urge flinched as if struck. The wounded guilt they felt must have been written all over their face, because with a sigh, Astarion relented. He took a seat by the Urge with a languid stretch of his legs. ”Really, though, what are you doing? We've already said our goodbyes to them. Do you expect them all to wander themselves off into oblivion down there?“

”I was just worried about them. They seem so…small, down there.“ Yes. Small. Pitiful. Vulnerable, even. As if they could crush them all in the palm of their hand.

”Oh, please. They're not a flock of schoolchildren. I'm sure they can handle themselves.“

”They do have children with them.“

”And you don't think they'll all gladly put their lives on the line to look after them? I doubt they're down there planning on making meat shields out of them. You need to stop fussing so much.”

Though the Dark Urge had the distinct feeling that Astarion enjoyed the sound of his own voice just as much as he enjoyed the finer things in life (which he'd probably argue were the same thing, they thought, wryly), he fell silent for a moment. They looked upon the bobbing lights together, watching as they grew smaller: from fireflies to starlight.

“Now, I'm no mind reader,” said Astarion, “but I doubt that's the only thing running through that sordid little mind of yours. What is it?”

“More of the usual, I guess.”

“Well, don't hold back on my account. I'm hardly squeamish.“

Another grimace. ”There's…that,” they admitted, “but it's more…”

The Dark Urge sighed. “…Do you think that if a person does everything they can do to be good, they can be? Even if they…weren't good before, or…”

Or still aren't, now. Or if they're just playing pretend.

Astarion scoffed. “I'm not a philosopher, darling. If you wanted someone to lecture you on 'right' or 'wrong', you'd want Wyll, not me. Or- well, I'm sure Gale would find something to talk your ear off about all that.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

The lights had nearly faded to nothing at this point. It was only when they had vanished around the hillside that Astarion spoke again.

“I can't tell you what they'd say,” he said, “but I'll tell you this: no matter how much you flagellate yourself, it won't change whatever it was you've done before. It won't bring that poor girl Alfira back from the dead-” they winced, but Astarion went on- “it won't wash the blood from your hands, and it most certainly won't change what you are.”

“A monster?”

“Mad, certainly, but as much a monster as I am. Make of that what you will.” Astarion flicked a gloved wrist dismissively in their direction. “Though I will say that what you've done hasn't changed what you're doing, either. If I was one of those sad, helpless refugees down there, I'd think you were a saint. I'm sure they were a step away from-” He gestured. “hoisting you upon their shoulders and parading you up and down the hills, if they hadn't been so drunk they couldn't walk straight.”

“I understand them, but I still don't understand why everyone else has been so…forgiving, towards me.” The Urge stared down at their hands. “They saw what I did to Alfira. They've seen what I am. They know. Yet they…”

“They act as if you're some sort of blessing from the gods? Believe me, I've noticed.” Astarion rolled his eyes. ”They might be in denial. Or- frankly- they all might be too much of freaks to say much about you.“

”I killed an innocent girl!“

”Denial, freaks, or both. Pick your poison.“

They didn't have an answer to that. Not any good one, at least.

”We may all have parasites cozying up in our heads, yes,“ said Astarion, ”but we've all been given second chances.“ A shadow crossed his face. ”Some of us more than others.

”What matters, darling, is that we make the most of it that we can, while we can. What that means to you is your business, not mine.“

Astarion made a face. ”Even if it means you have to drag us into your charity cases.“

They didn't smile. They couldn't. Half of their mind imagined what it would be like to dig their fingers deep into those gleaming eyes and pull. The other half was still nursing that sense of self-horror.

Their shoulders loosened just a little, though.

”Thank you,“ they said. ”I can't promise you we won't be doing more charity cases-“

”Of course you won't.“

”But…thank you.“

They lapsed into silence again. When the Dark Urge broke it, it was with a hesitance that made their teeth itch.

”Astarion?“

”Hm?“

”Can I ask you a favor?“

”Well, you can ask anything, but whether I'll take you up on it is another matter entirely.“

They pressed their lips together.

”Can you…can you hold me? For just a moment?“ They were quick to add, ”You don't have to, of course. But…“

“…Is that all?” Astarion arched a brow. The Urge nodded. Their eyes fell to his shoulder, back to their hands, to anywhere that wasn't his face. It wasn't too much of a favor objectively, perhaps, but with someone like him you never knew.

Indeed, for a moment, Astarion only looked at them. The silence seemed to stretch on into eternity, long enough that they were sure he would scoff and wave them off, or point out the grime in their clothes, or-

“Yes. Yes, I can hold you.”

Astarion stretched out his arms, paused mid-way, then, carefully, as if touching a vase, placed them around their shoulders. Even through their clothes, his hands were ice cold. The Dark Urge drew in a sharp breath, returning the gesture, leaning into him.

They sat there for a while: two people who, by all rights, didn't deserve the chance that life had handed to them, but had it all the same.

In the distance, the sun began to crest over the horizon.

#fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 durge #durge/astarion #can be platonic or romantic #creative writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion

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